Page 79 of Loyalty

Unlike him, Siena didn’t seem to be a flight risk. She would have had every right to bolt on him even if she had promised to still be there in the morning after she dragged him into the bedroom.

He took that as a battle won.

Fucking that woman was like taking a five-mile run first thing in the morning. It woke him up out of the stupor that was his everyday life, and left him out of breath. She worked him good, made his muscles ache by the end of it all, but still feeling like another go ‘round was a likely possibility.

A louder clang echoed from downstairs, and was followed by a loud cuss. John decided it was time to get up before Siena fucking hurt herself, or something. He pulled on a pair of sleep pants to cover his lower half, but nothing was hiding the half-mast of his dick pushing against the cotton.

Fuck it.

Soon enough, John was leaning in the entryway of the kitchen, and he watched as Siena balanced on a chair while she tried to pull a mixing bowl off the highest shelf in the pantry cupboard. Her wet hair hung in rivulets down her back, and he could see just a peek of her bare ass beneath the dress shirt she had thrown on.

His shirt.

It looked far better on her.

He didn’t even mind.

Those bare legs of hers—all soft lines, and sweet curves—looked damn good as she tried to balance on one foot and stretch to reach the bowl high above her head. He was so caught up in staring at her that he didn’t even mind she had seemed to tear his cupboards apart.

Anyone else, and John’s odd tendencies about his place and things being just how he wanted them might have come out to play in a not so nice way.

But this was her.

And he didn’t mind so much with her.

“Need some help?” he asked.

She must not have heard him coming downstairs because the shriek she let out damn near burst his eardrums. Not to mention, her body swayed on the chair, and she missed her step when she set her foot back down.

John bolted forward, and barely managed to catch Siena before she hit either the chair, the floor, or fucking both. Her brown hair created a curtain over her face, and she blew out a hard breath. A couple of strands puffed forward before Siena used a hand to push the hair back.

He’d caught her just a few inches from the floor. Lucky, really.

“Make some noise,” she told him, glowering. “I almost killed myself.”

“Thank you, John,” he mocked, “for not letting that happen.”

Siena pursed her lips. “And that, too!”

“Mmhmm.”

She grabbed his jaw with one hand, pulled him in close, and gave him a kiss that made his dick go from half-mast to all the way hard. Damn. All it took was her teasing little tongue flicking against his lips, and then the promise of a taste of her, and there he was … ready to go again.

“I was trying to make breakfast,” she whispered against his grinning lips.

“You needed the biggest bowl to do that?”

“Pancakes are messy, okay.”

John nodded. “Sure.”

“I kind of tore some cupboards apart looking for things.”

“As long as you put it all back, I don’t care.”

Siena winked. “Deal. Will you get me the bowl?”

“You bet.”